Doomed
by FrostedFire
Summary: Bellatrix Lestrange, an early-married teen out of the Dark Lord's favor, slinks off to Knockturn in hope of finding news. Fabian Prewett goes to escape his thoughts, and ends up with a bit more than he bargained for. A doomed meeting creates chaos. I do not own anything, and barely can claim my changes to both character's personalities.


Walking slowly into Knockturn Alley, Bellatrix kept herself quite distant from those she passed, slipping into holes of the crowd quite easily. Staying hidden, that was her strength, the only reason she was still alive. The only reason. Pausing slightly at one of the many Dark Magic displays, she checked her appearance in the glass. Emerald eyes, slightly worn over. Her dark hair was perfectly in place. Good. No reason for anyone to look at her in shock, to come over to speak to her. She looked like any other Hogwarts student- which was exactly how she preferred it. Staying away from those near her was a hobby, stealing for herself and the Dark was her job, something easily done. And she was good at it, of course, but not wonderful. People had seen her plenty of times, enough to make her nervous and edgy. Her emerald eyes glazed over slightly as she pretended to observe the cursed necklaces, though the only reason she had come was to find someone to watch, hopefully an elite. Then she could redeem herself.

Fabian Prewett turns the corner from Diagon to Knockturn, taking in a small breath as he does so. He'd originally gone to the magical markets to receive some reprieve from the constant hassles of his 'friends' and allies at Hogwarts, but the brightly lit square of Diagon had offered no sanctuary. There were too many people there, abuzz with a small, glowing happiness that he might have thought fake in the past, but seemed all too real now. They had their family after all, their loved ones. He feels his gut clench at the thought, and quickly dismisses the whole thing from his mind. What did he care for such things anyhow? He did not. Not at all. It was only because of Cheyenne's act of anger that he was even contemplating these things, and it was causing him to blank out in the middle of lessons, even conversations. However, a part of him did admit that thinking of that was preferable to what he had been like before the meeting in the Room of Requirements. At the very least, most likely due to that explosion of anger which had released his pent up emotion, he was feeling things again.

Bellatrix flickers her lazy glaze around the glass, slipping her wand out of her pocket. Someone else was there, someone else in school with her. Maybe a year or two ahead, but she couldn't tell from the bent reflection. A small sigh escaped her lips as she swiveled on her heel, swiftly walking in the direction of the figure, face nearly glued to her feet as she walked. She was so close to being left alone, so near to not needing to perform what she was required to. Maybe it would be someone worth it, maybe not. Bellatrix slipped into one of the back alleyways, her speed quickening as she brushed past the few that lived there with a disgusted look on her face. But that had been her, once upon a time. She had been living in Diagon, alone, all by herself. It had been required for her to act like a...a normal orphan, despite her pure-blood heritage.

Her strides slowed to a graceful walk, now behind the boy, arching a brow silently. It was Fabian Prewett, though he looked exhausted and deep in thought. That wasn't strange at all, but it was different. He must be thinking about something important, something... No. It didn't matter to her. That had nothing to do with the knowledge she must receive from whatever meeting he was going to. Or anything of the sort. She had to keep quiet and watch.

The boy had come to Knockturn despite the fact that it was full of unsavory wizards, of unimaginable creatures, for a reason. Although he hated to admit it, because it grated on his pride, he hated acting stupid even more so. He knew that he was not in a state where he could take on the patrons of Knockturn. If one of the smarter ones found him as he was, it was possible that they could take advantage, and that was one of the last things that he wanted. It was, however, the middle of the afternoon, with the sun still shining brightly overhead despite Knockturn's caved in walls which were designed to cast the majority of the alleyway into shadows no matter the time of day. He had gambled on the fact that nobody would be stupid enough to initiate an attack or actively try to trap him at this time. It was because of that reasoning that he allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts, to become relaxed in the colorless atmosphere of the darker alley. It was because of that, that he did not notice when the hairs on the back of his neck began to prickle, when his body began to warn him that he was being watched.

His feet took him without any heed through the alleyway, only following instinct because his mind was not on any destination. It was only when he passed by his fifth grimy window and saw the same figure pass through afterwards that he started to get a feeling of what was going on. Horror flooded through him, at both the implications and the very fact that he hadn't noticed it sooner. Trying not to change his pace as to not alert the hunter that he had noticed them, he tries as casually as he can to slide his hands into his robe pockets, where his wand was located. He wasn't sure if he pulled it off as well as he could have before, but it was instinct by now to try for composure, and to be honest, he had no idea how else he should act.

The younger girl smirks and rolls her eyes at the attempted movement, though kept a tight grip on her wand. It was easily seen by her, and would have been to almost anyone with the training she had gained over time. Although she was strong at tracking, finding, and keeping, Fabian was nearly three times better with a wand, so she had to be careful. Very careful.

Turning around herself slowly, she changed paths, feigning defeat for a few moments before she began to follow the older boy once more. She hadn't been noticed yet, that was a change. He was getting sloppy, or completely out of it. The reason didn't matter much to her, but the small amount of risk and action was slightly irritating, if not completely annoying. She could sense the slight fear he held, she could tell he was debating what to do. She could take advantage of it. With only a flick of her wand she could have the upper hand. No, no. That wasn't what she was to do. Just follow, just find out the reasons. Then report it to Rodolphus and Lucius. Gain back the trust she had lost. Then, and only then, would she be able to take a slight advantage of it. Take the spot of favorite, possibly. Steadying herself, she kept a looser grip on her wand as she continued to follow, thinking over the few words in her head. Follow. Don't react. Watch.

Fabian was not stupid. Now that he had begun to pay attention to the scurried footsteps, to the taste of tension in the air, it was not something that would so easily slip away from him again. The air felt nearly crystallized in its fragrance, the putrid smell of potions in the back becoming clearer, the scent of spring flowers floating about gaining distinction for their types. Now that he had his wand in his grip and his concentration as high as he could make it as he was now, there was nothing else for it. Pausing in his step, he takes a small breath, his eyes hooding as he tilts his head to look over his shoulder, an altogether lazy expression on his face. After all, what he feared wasn't the person themselves, but rather, whether the man would be intelligent enough to see through him. As long as he could pull this act off, he would be fine.

"You realize," he drawls in a bored, disdainful tone, his wrist resting lax against the edges of his pockets, ready to draw his wand, but not threateningly so. There was no one that he could see behind him, but he had no doubt that somebody would show. "That following little boys around is hardly going to earn you the title of the 'biggest and baddest', don't you?"

She arches a brow in slight amusement, strange ways slowly appearing as she speaks softly to him, refraining for smiling and laughing at his oblivious mind. Of course he would assume that only a male would follow and stalk him, and an elder one at that.

"You do realize," she retorts, her voice becoming icy and detached. "That I am younger than you, Fabian." Her lips curled up into a slight smirk, twirling her wand around in front of her. It had taken him quite a while to notice, something that she doubted most could even lie about. It was easier than normal, almost a childish game to her. She doubted that her skills were improving; if they were, she would not be in such hot water with her mentor.

"But I think this could give me the title of 'Stealthiest and Smallest' at least. Maybe something bigger," she murmured as she stopped walking behind him, knowing that he would turn around to face her. Maybe in shock, which would make her feel more apt to gloating, but it wouldn't happen. This was Fabian; the most she would get was a questioning look, maybe a raised brow. Certainly not a compliment, those were simply nonexistent when she was considered in anything. And that wasn't what someone would normally do. But nobody she knew was very normal to begin with.

The boy had to admit it, he was surprised. He had not expecting anyone he knew, least of all Lestrange. He only however, let the tiniest bit of that show in his expression. He allows his wand to drop from his fingers, knowing that whatever game Lestrange may play, she would at least not be a threat to him. They were allies, two wizards who understood each other and knew that it was more beneficial to have the other around, even if they weren't necessarily friends. She would not attack him.

Although, that begged the question of why she had followed him in the first place. "Lestrange," he says after a pause, arching an eyebrow in question. It was a derisive response to her arctic greeting, but they were allowed to go that far, at least. "Is thissome new way of greeting your friends?"

Except that she had no reason to tail him like a common burglar, unless of course she had lost all confidence that she could learn any information from him in a game of words. Well, she would not be wrong there, but this type of action was still inane. She had to know that the chances of finding out something incriminating on him in a public area would be even harder than being able to successfully fool him. There could only be one thing this was. Or rather, there was one person whom this was all likely to be tied to.

"I see that Riddle has... some unique tastes of what to teach his students." It would be just like the man to send out Lestrange to investigate him. After his recent rise to power and the chaos that it caused, the 'hiding' that it had likely made him do, Fabian really should have expected the man to attempt to do something to make him fall out of Dumbledore's favor. If he'd been paying attention at all to the events around him, he might have noticed before Lestrange practically hit him in the face with the possibility, but he couldn't help but bitterly reflect that he had been in no such state. He- could still make up for it now however, to prod Lestrange with his question on whether or not Voldemort sent her, and to observe her reaction following.

Bellatrix lets out an exasperated sigh at his first comment, raising her eyes to stare into the sky as she responds dryly, "Would you prefer a curtsy? I pleasant tap on the shoulder? Contrary to common belief, I don't follow people to talk to them."

Sniffing delicately, she looks back at Fabian with a slightly irritated look at the word about her teacher. They had not corresponded in quite a while, but did he really need to know that the Dark Lord was furious with her? No, he did not. He would use it against her in any way possible, and that was not needed at the time, nor ever needed entirely. But it was Fabian, a…friend, one could say, though they were not as close as they had once been. But she knew that he was debating whether Riddle had sent her, she knew he couldn't tell. But thinking that she had been sent? No, Lucius would be the one to question Fabian, even though she knew that the boy thought the other student to be insane. Which he might have been nearing, but he was very good at whatever it was that he did.

"And why would he send me out to do something as trivial as that? He has the 'Wonderful Snake' to do that, and nearly anything else." Voldemort might have taken her into his close circle, but she was still entitled to be jealous of his favorite, Malfoy, the perfect pureblood.

Fabian feels his other eyebrow rise to join the first at Lestrange's response. He had not said anything about his inward suspicions, and to be honest his question should have been taken as a slight towards her teacher, an implied gloat that his was better. It was interesting that Lestrange's mind jumped immediately to whatever task Riddle might have sent her on.

While it wasn't confirmation of his theory, it was a highlight in its favor. "Oh, is that so?" he asks silkily, not really taking offense at her previous words because... well, this was Lestrange. It also seemed all so trivial in comparison to the previous two events of what had incited his anger. Something like an implication that he was in the wrong only grazed the surface of the resting temper, and he could leave his care of it easily enough. He thinks for a moment of how to receive the answers he wanted, and found that he still had it within himself to plot for such things. He shakes his head, allowing the cool tone to drop from his voice into a softer, truer one.

There is a pregnant pause, and finally, he glances away, not looking at Lestrange fully any longer to 'save' her the embarrassment. "When you say 'Snake', you mean Lucius the pompous idiot?" Amber eyes hood in contemplation, in concentration. "Why would that be? Your master is not stupid. Why should he use that failure rather than you?"

The fifth year lets her gaze fall to her feet as he speaks once more, shame blooming on her face. Of course she meant Lucius, the man who enjoyed tormenting, who should not have been placed in asynchronous a high spot, the male who would even be dismissed from Gobstones.

"Yes," she hissed out through her anger. That was all she would say. They weren't young anymore; she was no longer going to give out information at will. "And obviously I am the failure here, am I not?"

Hot tears formed in her eyes as she studied her shoes, disguising her emotions with lidded orbs. She was not weak any longer. "I was seen. I am not supposed to be seen. But ironically enough, nobody seems to have trouble finding me."

She was supposed to stay out of trouble, too, but that was not the instructions given to her by Voldemort or Lucius. That was Mary's, Lissa's, and the minimal amount of friends on the side of the Order. No, they were not friends anymore, they offered nothing in return but trouble. That had already gotten her nearly dead; she needed no more of it for the time being. Remembering his sudden change in his tone, Bellatrix clenches her jaw in slight irritation at herself. Do not give him any answers. Let him leave empty handed.

He snorts in response to Lestrange's answer. More of a failure than Lucius? That was impossible. With every passing second, he feels more and more of himself come back to him, whether that was due to Lestrange's familiar presence, for she had known him before it had all begun, or because of the dreary atmosphere of Knockturn which allowed no weakness. In the end it did not matter what the reason, because he was able to act more like his former self than he had in ages.

"You, Lestrange, are pathetic." An image of another girl rises in his mind, an image of him saying the exact same thing, but with a different name. He quickly squashes the image down, because he did not need that to confuse him. This time he was saying the words for a completely different reason. He was not losing his temper, not trying to lose an ally. These words, unlike those ones, were calculated. Turning steely amber eyes back to meet Lestrange's own, he tilts his head up slightly in an expression of pride.

"Did I really make an ally with someone who'd complain at the earliest convenience? I thought you were better than that. No..." He takes a step forward, closing the distance between them as he searches her face steadily, not allowing her the opportunity of escape, "I know you are better than that."

She lifts her gaze, her eyes hooded as she closes out the anger. "I am not!" she exclaims to his words, the tears of her face instantly gone once she looks at him. She would not stand to be called a failure, and her wand was back in her hand in seconds, the movement a blur as she reaches for it. Pathetic? That was those she used to know, not her. She had struggled to get where she was now, though it already was crashing down on her. The words stung a bit, but pushed her back towards reality. This was not her. This was not Bellatrix Lestrange. Whoever she was acting like would not survive anything those days.

"Take it back," she says sharply, not even flinching as he came closer to her. The other words he said slipped into the front of her mind, though she kept her focus on the first thing he spoke to her. Her wand flicked slightly, and instantly it was pointed at him, her emerald eyes daggers as she looked up into his amber ones. "Take. It. Back."

Fabian feels a sneer flicker across his lips at the less than satisfactory response. He knew that she would not actually fire off a spell, because surely, she would not be that stupid even in her state? She had to know that he would retaliate, and with the amount of effort he had put forth into study spellwork, she could not hope to match him.

"You," he starts coolly, and then pauses, offset by the blazing green fire in her eyes. She was angry, so very angry, and that was why she was saying the stupid things that she did. He found that he... understood that. Hadn't he also made a near unforgivable error because he had lost it in the face of being accused of succumbing to weakness?

If he honestly thought about it, Lestrange was probably the person most like him. She also was one who tried, one who had been brought low, one who knew how to play the games, despite her sometimes deplorable show of emotions. Perhaps she was most adapted to help him understand that day in the Room of Requirement, and what it meant. It was likely that she would react similarly to him, was it not? Then, maybe then, he would find the motive behind why. Her anger, he had to use it now, before it cooled. Ignoring the wand pressed tightly against his robes, he raises a hand to tilt her chin up and leans forward, pressing his lips onto hers in a searing kiss.

Bellatrix blinks, pulling back quickly. Thoughts flew in and out of her head, confusion crossing over her face. What...why? There had to be a reason, but she couldn't figure out why... But anger rose in her once more, her face becoming hot. It was the second time that someone had taken a kiss from her, not even the first.

"What was that even for?!" she exclaims, a hand flying up to touch her lips. It wasn't real, it couldn't have been. Why? She had left all hope of this happening to her when she was younger, and now that something had happened?

"Why?"

The why was for many reasons and she was fine with just one answered. Why had he left...why had he waited until she didn't care...why did he do it then? Was it one of those things he did to find an answer? Angry tears bloomed in her mind and she stepped back once more, a small part of her fuming for pulling away, the one part that was her old, ambitious self. But she ignored it, turning her head to look to the sky for some sort of answer, rage hot on her tongue. She had waited for him, all of her first and second year. But he had disappeared, and gave her the wish she used to have. But it didn't mean anything anymore. He wanted to know what she would do for his own reasons, didn't he?

The seventh year boy feels a frown flicker across his face at her reaction. It wasn't at all like how he had been. But then, if one looked past the surface, their basic attitude was the same, was it not? She had, in her way, let go of her previous anger, and she was questioning his action. It was not everything, but it was enough.

"You..." he begins softly, only to pause and tilt his head, gazing at her with curious amber eyes. He briefly noted that she was crying, which he had only seen her do the day they both thought she was dying. Once again he remembers that Lestrange was a girl, and that despite all their similarities, she did tend to take things too personally. But, he had already helped her with her confidence issues, and it was only right that he take something back now. She had to help him understand this. "You wouldn't leave me now... would you? If you were contemplating it before, you wouldn't abandon me now? I suppose, at the very least, I could seem like I would do anything for you?"

She doesn't respond at first, though takes a deep breath, crossing her arms in thought. Leave him? She could, but probably wouldn't. It was just her curious nature, trying to make her figure out why. Why had he kissed her, why did it matter what she was thinking? It was probably just a game to him, just something to figure out.

"I could. I should have. But curiosity keeps me still standing here." She should have left when she could, instead of having to deal with the emotions. Stupid girl weaknesses. Stupid heart keeping her rooted in her step. But with effort, she moved over to him gracefully, staring him in the eye the best she could.

"Why should I even answer you?" she asks softly, restraining her anger slightly. "You know very well I had waited, and now? And to help you?" her voice became harsher at the end, and she pressed her lips against his once more before swiveling on her heel to walk out, not even waiting for his response. It didn't matter anymore.

Fabian narrows his eyes after her, a hand rising to his lips in silent question. Well, that had been of no help, except that he knew that this kiss too, felt different. Shaking his head, he turns and walks away. He had gotten his answer, somewhat. It seemed that the universal reaction after a kiss was to keep the other person around, after all, probably for the reason that he had just stated to Lestrange if nothing else. If so, then Cheyenne's actions made perfect sense. She was intelligent enough to see how to get herself out of her mess. This was all done now then. He did not have to worry about it anymore. But his heart ached slightly as he turned to make his own way out, ignoring the looks of those around him. He felt something, something that he couldn't name. What was it, that longing feeling in his chest? The boy barely knew, and refused to say it out loud. But as he stepped into his dormitory later that night, a single word rested on his lips.

Love.

And it tasted doomed.

* * *

**Background info:**

**1. Beginning of first WW. **

**2. Lucius is older than Bella and Fabian. **

**3. I am assuming that Bella wasn't extremely batty until after F & G's deaths. **

**4. Bella was friendly with Order people, for the benefit they gave her. **

**5. Lucius is the favorite until he does something stupid. **

**-c-**

**This may continue. Please critique, as I wrote this late one night. It was adapted from an old story, so I'd like to know if any names sound odd. Also, if you read 'Some Nights', there's been an issue with the last chappy. You'll get it soon enough. **

**~ Fai **


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